


I Still Run

by Deans_Fetish



Series: I Want You To Live Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Children, Angst, Bottom Sam, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mourning, Original Character Death(s), POV Dean Winchester, Swearing, Top Dean, coping with loss, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-29
Updated: 2010-05-29
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans_Fetish/pseuds/Deans_Fetish
Summary: This is the sequel to ‘I Want You To Live’. AU Fic. Sam and Dean had what seemed like the perfect life, a normal life. Two sons, a house, each other and no more hunting. One fateful night that all got ripped away. Now Dean is trying to live life without Sam and raise two sons and move on, but he can't let go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Video by Herebutnotremembered (by the same title).

_I'm running back into the house after getting Jimmy into his car seat, Johnny is standing by the stairs, Sam is no where to be found, and I'm screaming his name, but he's not answering me. I grab Johnny as he's screaming for his damn toy and I run him out to the Impala. As I stand there trying to get him to calm down to under stand that I need to go back in and get Sam and to stop crying about that damn toy, there is an explosion upstairs._

_But this time, I run back, leave Johnny standing there by the car, yell back to him to stay put and I run back in. I know where to go, because I've lived this before, so I run up the stairs and there he is, my Sammy, lying on the floor. I fall to my knees beside him, gather him up in my arms as best I can, (the over grown freak) and his hazel eyes open slightly and look up at me._

_And I see in them blame for me not saving him. He would never say it, so he doesn't, but I can see it in his eyes. And then he says really softly, so soft, I have to lean over and put my ear by his lips. "I loved you." and as I pull back I want so much to tell him, I'm sorry, that I didn't mean to let him down, tell him that I love him, that I always will, but my throat won't work, my lips part, but nothing comes out. I watch his eyes slip shut and he dies in my arms, right there in the house, not in the hospital, not while I am eating breakfast with the boys, right there in my fucking arms, his body going limp, the light going out of those beautiful hazel eyes even as they close._

_I'm crying, I manage the sounds for that, but not to tell him what I wanted to, what I needed to. Instead I simply choke on the words. I tilt my head back then, as the fire grows around us and I scream out my anguish, my sorrow._

I wake with a start, sweat pouring off me, JD standing by my bed, looking at me with his eyebrow raised. “You were having another nightmare.” he tells me, as if I hadn't figured that out myself. (Smart ass)

I glare at him as I pull up to sit on the edge of the bed, “Where's your brother?” I ask him and he looks at me for a minute, like I just asked him where Grants Tomb was, before walking toward the door. He shrugs then, “I dunno, around.” I swear under my breath as I pull from the bed, “Whys it so damn hot in here?” I ask him, grouchy now. 

“It's not,” he tells me as he walks out of the room, “You were just dreaming about the fire again.” he says as he continues down the hall. (Little shit. Stay outta my head.)

I stumble into the bathroom, still half asleep, piss, shower, brush my teeth and shave, and by the time I come out I'm feeling a little more human. I go down stairs, head toward the kitchen. Coffee pot is calling my name, and I stop dead in my tracks as I watch JD and little Sammy. JD's pouring him another bowl of Lucky Charms and little Sammy is telling him he can have the toy, JD is grumping at him that he doesn't want it, that he isn't a baby anymore, he wanted the cereal. 

I swallow the lump in my throat and move into the kitchen, reach above the fridge and open the cabinet, grabbing the new box of cereal and shake it, getting their attention before I toss it down on the counter in front of them. “Stop fighting, there's more.” I tell them, not exactly sounding very friendly, because I can still see myself and my Sammy doing the same thing when we were kids and my throat is closing off and my heart is aching.

JD is grinning at little Sammy now and I know something awful is going through his little head, because well, it would be mine. “Hey, Sammy,” he says as he glances toward the fridge, “I dare ya to use the old milk Dad hasn't thrown away yet instead of the new stuff.”

I groan as I wait for little Sammy's answer, “What would you give me if I did?” he says and I'm nodding now as I set the coffee pot up to make my coffee, because I already know the answer to that, even before JD snickers out the answer, “Respect.”

I close my eyes and let my forehead bang against the cabinet above me then and as I peek over at them, I see JD grinning at me. “Leave him alone,” I tell him, but he just shrugs at me and carries away the box of Lucky Charms, as he goes to the table to sit down and eat it instead of sitting at the counter next to his brother. (The little jerk)

I look at little Sammy with a look of apology on my face, because I know exactly where JD gets his shitty behavior toward him from, but like my Sammy, little Sammy just shrugs and sighs and goes to eating his cereal.

Time passes and we're all silent doing our own thing, and finally the coffee pot is done and I've got myself a cup and I'm sipping it, leaning back on the counter, one hand braced on said counter behind me when little Sammy stops eating and looks up at me with this curious look on his face. (Kids always thinkin'.) So, I'm looking at him out of the corner of my eye as I take another sip, waiting for whatever he's going to say, ask, whatever and then he blurts it out. “Dad, what's an incestuous faggot?”

My eyes widen and I spew my coffee all over the kitchen floor, just as I hear JD spew his Lucky Charms across the table and then his chair slide across the floor as he stands up. I'm not looking at him though, I'm slamming my cup down on the counter, sloshing scalding hot coffee all over the counter and my hand, before I grab the front of little Sammy's pajama shirt and pull him forward half across the counter, as I look at him angrily, shaking him slightly as I yell at him, “Where did you hear that!?”

It isn't until I really look at his face, see his wide, scared hazel eyes looking up at me that I realize what I've done and I let him go abruptly.

Before I have time to realize he's made it over there, JD grabs little Sammy's pajama shirt, pulls back a fist and slams it into his face, knocking little Sammy out of his seat. He falls onto the floor on his back, crying and JD is on him, yelling at him not to ever say that again, punching him over and over and I'm running around the counter, pulling JD off his brother. “Stop it! He doesn't know what he said!” I yell at JD, who finally stops fighting me to get to his brother who's curled up on the floor now in a ball crying.

I let go of JD and go to little Sammy, kneeling there, I pull him into my arms, hugging him trying to shush his crying, telling him his brother didn't mean to do that. After he's stopped crying and is just doing the little hiccup thing, I pull back and look at him. He's gonna have a helluva shiner, I can see it already.

I look over my shoulder at JD and sigh, shaking my head, but he's still standing there glaring. Looking back at little Sammy I ask him softly, calmly where he heard that and he hiccups out a name, "Todd Fletcher." (Some little brat from school.)

JD steps closer, “Todd Fletcher!?” he asks him and I look over my shoulder at him as he continues on, his green eyes narrowed, “You know what Fletcher means, Sammy?”

Little Sammy shakes his head, as he wipes the tears from his face.

I raise an eyebrow at JD cause I know where he's going with this, he's got the word wrong, well, not quite right anyway, but I want to hear how he's going to explain this to his six year old brother and then ask him how the hell HE knows, but instead he glances at me and sighs, mumbles something that sounds a lot like a cuss word, but I'm not positive, as he turns away and walks back over to the table.

I know I should call him on it, I should tell him that, one, he isn't to tell his brother about stuff like that and, two, that he needs to not be swearing. Ten years old, is not old enough to be swearing. (Well, sure, I don't really see the problem with it, but I can just hear my Sammy freaking out over it.) But I say nothing because part of me, an evil part, is cheering JD on.

It's a Saturday, and on Saturdays we always go somewhere fun. I either take them to the park or play ball with them or something, so after all the drama is over I ask them what they want to do today. 

After a lot of arguing back and forth between them, little Sammy wanting to go to the park, JD wanting to play ball. ([sighs and rolls eyes] They finally agree on going to see Bobby and playing ball later in the afternoon. Bobby always has something new and interesting at his place, according to the boys. Don't ask me. All I see are junk cars and more hunting information than humanly possible. But, they see something else entirely I suppose.) 

So, now that we know what we're doing, I send them off to get dressed and ready. JD is back out within five minutes, dressed, hair combed and ready. Little Sammy however has yet to come out. [Kid primps more than a girl]

I yell to him to get going and when he walks out he has his hair parted down the center, a t-shirt on and a long sleeve shirt over it and he looks at me, “Do I look like Dad S?”   
(They've taken to shortening what they call us. Since Jimmy went to being called Sammy, they started calling my Sammy, 'Daddy S' and then as they grew Daddy lost the 'd-y' and well, now it's Dad D and Dad S.)

I raise an eyebrow at him and shake my head, “No.” But the truth of the matter is, he does. Looks like a miniature carbon copy and it bugs the hell out of me because it just makes me miss my Sammy more and again, I am finding it hard to breath right. 'No' was the only word I was able to choke out at the moment.

He shrugs and grabs his jacket then and pulls it on, looking from me to JD like he's waiting for us to move. 

I was actually hoping he was going to go change and re comb his hair. The bangs were much better for me. It had been a long time since my Sammy had bangs so I could deal with it a lot better. I sigh and look over at JD who frowns at his brother and calls him a dumb ass before walking out the door.

I turn to follow JD out the door, with every intention of telling him that he shouldn't call his brother that when I hear little Sammy come back with, 'idiot'.  
I look between them and see the half smiles on their faces and again roll my eyes.  
 _I'm doomed._

* * * * * 

After spending the day at Bobby's and then playing ball until we're all tired out, we head home covered in grass stains and dirt on our faces. Yeah, it was a good day.

I make them some dinner, something fast and easy. (Because well, dammit they wore me out, and because I just want a shower and to collapse on the couch and not get up again.)  
So, it's fish sticks and french fries for the Winchesters tonight. 

Little Sammy's making faces at me, but he eats it, JD on the other hand is eating so fast I think he's going to choke. (Slow down, kid. And shut up! I did not teach him to eat like that!)

After dinner, I send them to get showers as I go get mine and go to the living room, cup of coffee in front of me, as I look through Dad's journal and an old book my Sam had had in his night stand. 

I have it open to the crossroads deal page and I'm tempted, so tempted... when suddenly the heavy ass book slams closed and Dad's journal goes flying across the room. I jump like some idiot who had never seen a ghost would, eyes wide and look around the room. “Sammy?” I call out, but there's no answer. Not that I really thought there would be, but hell, it was a heavy book...and it just slammed closed. THAT isn't normal. Well, normal for us sure, but, not normal, normal. 

I haven't even told the boys why I always check under their beds and their closet, why there is rock salt along their window sills. I haven't told them anything. It was something Sammy; my Sammy had made me promise. He said we could keep them safe and they didn't need to know. 

Then I hear it, someone at the door. I can hear the knob turning, footsteps on the porch. I jump up from the couch and run to the door, and throw it open wide, looking around outside, and for a second, just a split second I could have sworn I saw my Sam standing there smiling at me. I could have sworn that he was there, but as I look again, I don't see anything but an empty yard.

I walk out into the yard looking around, leaving the front door wide open as do, because I'm not thinking at this point really. I'm moving on the hope that it was Sam, that I can see him...somewhere. [sighs] (Yeah, I know it's stupid to hope that you’re being haunted, but I was. I was hoping.)

I stand in the center of my yard and yell for Sam, yell as loud as I can, but nothing.

Dogs bark in answer, and lights turn on in neighbor’s houses as they look out at the madman standing in his yard yelling for his dead brother/lover, but otherwise, nothing. (okay, I am three breaths away from admitting that maybe I need help and I don't mean psychological help. I still think that it was Sammy that closed that book. Sorry, but I do, and I think he's pissed that I was even considering it, so he's giving me the silent treatment. That's okay, I've went six years in silence, I can out wait his anger.)

And then I hear it, JD's voice coming from the open door of the house, “Dad?” he calls out to me, sounding slightly worried about me. I look over and watch as little Sammy walks up, looks from his brother to me and softly says, “Daddy?” (yeah, he slips back to Daddy sometimes, when he's had a bad dream, gets scared or when he doesn't feel good.)

I don't say anything as I look at them both standing in the doorway. Watch as JD turns to his brother and tells him to go inside, go find something to do. When Sammy doesn't move at first, JD tells him to move, sounding an awful lot like me yelling at Sam.

JD waits for his brother to do as he says, watches him walk off, before walking out to me and taking my arm, pulling me toward the house. “Come on, Dad. Dad S is gone, you know that and there ain't no coming back.” (Wrong! My brain yells that at him, but I say nothing and let him pull me into the house.)

We don't talk about what just happened, the boys know enough to leave it alone and just let me be. I sit on the couch staring at the TV, but not really seeing it, as my thoughts race. If Sam was haunting me, then he hadn't crossed over, he was still here. Why was he here? 

I knew as hunter I should get rid of him, send him where he belonged, but as his brother, loving him, I didn't want to. I wanted him to stay right there with me. Sure I know it isn't right, but hell, I feel like being a little selfish about all this. Ya know?

Nothing else happens the rest of the night, even when I look back at the book, the same area, just to try to get a rise out of him, see if it is Sammy. But, nothing happens. Not a single thing, not even a feather light page turns, nothing. I sigh and drop the book onto the coffee table starting to believe I dreamt it all up. Wishful thinking. Shaking my head I rise to my feet to go check on the boys. 

Little Sammy is in bed asleep already and JD is sitting in his bed, reading a comic book when I walk into the room. I look from one to the other, raise an eyebrow, “Lights out, JD, you hear me?” 

JD sighs and nods to me, closing his comic and laying it on his nightstand before scooting down on his bed lying back on the pillows. I walk over to him and bend, kissing him on the forehead. “Sleep tight.” I tell him, before kneeling beside his bed and looking under it, then I turn my head and look under Sammy's before I pull to my feet again. I walk to the closet, like every night and open the doors, looking around inside. I know what I'm looking for, though as JD watches me, I know he's thinking I'm a fruit. He has for a while when I do this, has asked me many times what I'm doing, but like I promised Sam, I say nothing, just blow it off as me being nosey. 

I walk to the window next to his bed and make sure that the salt line is unbroken, before walking over to Sammy's bed and lean over him, kissing his temple as he is laying on his side. I go to that window, next to him and again check the salt line. Satisfied, I walk to the door and turn to look back at them. “Go to sleep, JD.” I say as I pull the door closed, before turning to walk away.

 _I lay in bed on my back, staring up at the ceiling and I hear the floor board creek and groan across the room. I pull my head up off the pillow and look, but I see nothing there. Letting my head fall back on the pillows, I sigh and close my eyes, then I feel it. The mattress beside me give under the weight of something, some_ **one.**

_I swallow hard as I hope beyond all hope that it's who, what, I think it is. Slowly, I open my eyes and I see him, sitting there on the side of the bed, smiling down at me, all dimples and hair in his eyes. And I can't breathe, I can't move, can't to anything but stare up at him, my eyes wide._

_After a few moments of staring like I have no brain in my head, I push up into a sitting position and his head lifts slightly, hazel eyes still gazing into mine, that smile still on his face. Slowly, almost scared to do it, afraid I will and he won't really be there, I lift a hand and reach out to touch him. His eyes drop to the hand that I am moving, as he watches me touch him. I gasp softly, my heart aching, eyes wide, and tears start to fill them as I can feel him there. He's solid, sitting there in front of me. He's really there. And at that moment, I don't care if he's a ghost or not as I move quickly and wrap my arms around him, hugging him so tight I should be breaking ribs, but he only hugs me back. I can smell him, that smell that is Sam. My Sammy._

_I turn my head, my nose against his neck as I breathe in his scent. My tears are falling now and I don't even care. "Sammy." I whisper his name before pulling back to look at him. He looks at me, his smile is gone and in its place is the same heartache I know is on my face. I cup his cheek, and he leans toward me, his lips against mine, and I taste him again, for the first time in six years. (and I know I am being such a girl crying right now, but I can't help it and I don't even care.)_

_I can feel him, touch him, taste him and it's like a gift. I know in the back of my head that it can't last, that it isn't real, that Sam's dead, but right then, right at that moment, I have him back and I don't care that it isn't real, I don't care that he's a ghost and needs to move on and that I need to tell him that. I can't, I won't. Hell, he's a hunter; he knows that, if he's okay with it, why shouldn't I be, right?_

_I slowly pull my head away from him, pulling back just slightly so I can look into his eyes. "Sammy, I'm so sorry, I should have gone to get Johnny. I should have taken better care of you. It was my job and I blew it and I'm so sorry, I -"_

_I try to tell him, try to get it all out, but he lifts a hand, laying his fingers against my lips, tells me, "Shhh," as he shakes his head at me. I sigh, looking down for a second, slowly move my hand so that my fingers are laying over his, then raise my head and look up at him to see that he was looking down too. Looking at our hands. "I love you." I whisper, my heart aches so bad, and my tears are falling and I don't care as he smiles at me and leans in, whispers in my ear that he loves me too._

_My hand move to his face, as I just feel him. My hands on each side of his head, my thumbs moving over his cheekbones. I just need to feel him, I can't keep my hands off of him, because for one thing I'm afraid if I do, that if I'm not holding onto him somewhere, he's just going to vanish on me again and for another, I want him. I dunno if that's awful of me or not, but I do._

_He knows it too, because in the next breath he's got his hands at the hem of my tee and he's lifting it up, and I let go of him long enough to lift my arms so he can take it off and toss it on the floor. I then move my hands to his shoulders, pushing off his jacket, then rip his long sleeve shirt open, he's wearing my favorite shirt, it dawns on me somewhere in my mind, but I don't think on that too hard as I reach down and pull up his white tee, lifting it up and over his head. We undress each other in a rush, like neither one of us can wait, like we're each starving for the other._

_I lean toward him, capturing his lips with my own, my tongue slipping between his lips and I can taste him. My tongue runs over every tooth, in every corner of his mouth, memorizing everything, because even in my stupor, I know this won't last, he isn't really back. Not really, not totally. My hands are running all over him, feeling him, memorizing the feel of his skin, the heat of him, the way it feels to hold him and it's just like before. I do remember, I_ **_have_** _remembered, perfectly. Every last detail, every hot little fucking mole, every line of muscle, everything._

_Naked now, I roll us over so he's under me, and I'm still kissing him. I love kissing Sam. I dunno what it is (yeah I do, he's a good fucking kisser and he's got the softest lips on the planet. The damn girl.) I can't get enough of his mouth as my hands move over him. I pull back, kneeling between his legs and I'm not sure if it's because I know he's a ghost and I can't hurt him or because I'm just that out of my mind for him, but not only do I not use lube, I just thrust into his tight hole, nearly coming in the process. I hear him moan and I have to fight to control my body. (Holy shit!) I look down at him, see him biting his lip the way he does that is so damn sexy and I just start moving in him, my hand going to his cock to move in time with mine inside him._

_I lean over him and capture his lips again with my own, kissing him so hard I know my lips are going to be bruised in the morning. I tear my lips away from his and gaze down at him, look into beautiful hazel eyes with lust blown pupils. I notice his cheeks are slightly flushed too and again I have to stop myself from coming right then and there. My hands movement on his cock speeds up though as do my thrusts inside him as I close my eyes tightly, moaning his name. I open my eyes to see his head thrown back on the pillows, neck arched and he's moaning. I can feel his hands on my back, in my hair. His hands go to my back again and his fingers dig in as his muscles tighten on me._

_My eyes close again for a moment and when I look back down that same shirt that I like so much is on him again, but it's unbuttoned. I know it shouldn't be there, that it was on the floor before, but it doesn't register at that moment or maybe it does, but I'm being stupid and ignoring it, I dunno, all I know is I'm teetering on the brink of my orgasm and I look up into his face, lean down and capture his lips as I start to come. My scream of pleasure is swallowed up in his mouth as his is in mine as I feel him come on my hand._

I'm laying face down and slowly, I pull my head back off my pillow and blink, looking around my room. I'm alone and as I roll to my side, I see that it's my own dick in my hand and I've just jizzed on my bed like a teenager in heat. I look up at my pillow and that's when I see it. Sam's shirt lying across my pillow. (Oh fuck.)

I look over at my alarm clock and see that it's 6 AM, and I sigh and feel like flopping back down on the bed, only I'd be flopping down in the wet spot, a wet spot I apparently made. (By myself) I'm not totally convinced that Sam wasn't here though, in some form, because I could swear that I can still taste him in my mouth. But, maybe I'm dreaming that too...?

Dammit to hell. Sighing, I tuck my dick back into my boxers, the fact that they are on and I'm not naked like I was before... with Sam, in the dream, or whatever the hell it was, doesn't register to me as I pull from the bed, walking into the bathroom, still shaking my head at myself, because let's face it, having a fucking wet dream just isn't a Dean Winchester thing to do.

I do my morning ritual, you know, piss, shower, brush my teeth and shave and all the while I am telling myself that it was just a dream, that Sam really hadn't been there and we hadn't just had sex for the first time in six years and that I hadn't been holding him and I almost have myself convinced of that by the time I finish with everything and walk out of the bathroom. 

It's then that I see the closet door is wide open and I frown at it, because I know I didn't leave it that way when I came to bed last night, so I walk over and look inside. I still have a few of Sam's shirts in there, because well, I just couldn't part with them, my favorite being one of them. But, that's lying on my bed across my pillow as we all well know now. So, apparently I sleep walk now and grab Sam's clothes when I do it. [sighs]

I walk into the closet to where I see a hanger hung funny, the same way Sam always did them when he got a shirt out, spinning the hanger on its silver hook, so he knew where he got the shirt from. (Yeah, did I mention I think he had a touch of OCD? yeah, well, there ya go.)

And I know that I would never do that...not in my right mind anyway. But then, I suppose getting up in the middle of the night to get a shirt that smells like Sam and then masturbating to the smell of him on it while I sleep doesn't exactly put me at the head of the line in the 'right minds department.'

With a sigh, I get dressed, then I turn and walk out of the closet, starting to think that ole Dean is losing touch with reality here, when I see it. It's half under the bed, so I wouldn't have, but my head was hanging as I was pouting a little bit. (Shut the hell up, you would be too!) Sam's sock was sitting there, half under my bed, and I know it was Sam's because it sure as hell wasn't mine (did I mention OCD is contagious?) and I know it isn't one of the boys, because their feet aren't that big. (No ones are. The freak.)

So, I crouch down and grab up the sock and look around, like I'm going to find answers laying around my room somewhere. [shakes head] Slowly, I pull up to my feet, and tuck the sock into my pocket. (Don't ask me why, because I couldn't tell you if you did.)

I strip my bed and take the sheets to the laundry room, start that (I hate doing laundry. Damn girly work. That was Sam's area. First time I did it we all had light blue clothes. [huffs] How did I know JD's new blue jeans would run and turn all the whites blue?)

After that I'm in the kitchen making coffee and starting breakfast. Cooking like a mad man, as if that's going to make very thing better. Pancakes, sausage, eggs, hash browns, toast..you name it, I was making it. Damn kids better be friggin' hungry. 

They're both still asleep right now. Probably up all night, knowing them. Sure, Sammy had been asleep when I went in there, but they have a habit of getting up in the middle of the night and messing around instead of sleeping. They can go on three hours sleep like they've slept eight and here I am after six and I feel like I'm going to fall asleep in the pancake batter. [shakes head]

Of course, I can remember a time not so long ago that Sam and I use to do the same thing. Be on a hunt and get two maybe three hours sleep and be fine. [huffs] Seems like a lifetime ago. (Truthfully, sometimes I think I'm living someone else's life and I keep waiting to wake up...maybe a Djinn has me again and Sam will save me and it will be all just a dream, a fake life and we'll be together again and he'll be alive... yeah, right.)

I hear something fall upstairs and roll down the steps then a muffed, 'dammit'.  
(Well, JD's awake.) “Morning!” I call out to him and I hear a grumbled, “Morning.” before the bathroom door slams closed, and I have to chuckle because I know what's coming next, so I wait and sure enough, Sammy comes bounding down the stairs with a big smile on his face, all dimples and sunshine, grins at me and says happily, “Morning, Dad.” (Can they _be_ any more opposite?)

I look at Sammy out of the corner of my eye and smirk slightly, shaking my head at him. “Morning, dude.”

He grins wider at me as he takes a seat at the counter watching me cook.  
After a minute he slips off the stool and I can hear him messing around in the fridge, and the cabinet and I know he's getting a drink. He comes back with two glasses of milk and sets them both on the counter, before climbing back onto the stool and I raise an eyebrow at him. “Two glasses?” I ask him and he nods at me. “That thirsty, huh?” But, he only grins. 

I hear JD grumbling under his breath as he walks into the kitchen and glance over at him, his eyes still half closed looking like he's half dead to the world still and on his way to the stool on the other side of Sammy he grabs one of the glasses of milk and pats Sammy on the head like a dog. And I have to just shake my head because I can so see myself doing that to my Sam it isn't even funny.

Sammy's giving me that thoughtful look again as I pour my coffee and I'm almost afraid of what he's going to say today, but I wait for it, half holding my breath.

“What's all the food for, Dad?” he asks me and I let out the breath I was holding in an almost rush of relief. JD speaks up before I can answer and says, “Me and not you.” and reaches across the counter and scoops up a handful of hash browns, shoving them into his mouth. Sammy looks at him like he just ate from the garbage and I just grin and follow suit. (Just to prove a point that sometimes, among family, it's okay to eat with your hands...out of the pan...like an animal. Oh come on! You know you do it too!)

Sammy shudders and makes a face and I can't help but laugh at him, as does JD.  
After I finish chewing what's in my mouth and swallow it, take a sip of my coffee, I answer Sammy, who is still looking from JD to me and back. “I just felt like cooking.” I tell him with a shrug. 

“Dad had another bad dream about Dad S.” JD clarifies for me, like I don't know how to speak for myself and Sammy is nodding like they have some sort of secret understanding between them that Dad D is a damn fruit nugget. So, I glare at him. “No, I didn't Mr. Smarty pants.”

JD just raises an eyebrow at me and nods, but I can tell he thinks I'm full of shit.  
I sigh and roll my eyes at the both of them, but I don't argue that I'm not a damn fruit nugget, because at this point, hell, I'm beginning to wonder if I am. 

I take another sip of coffee and look at them both, “I know we usually just go see Dad Sam on Sunday mornings, but, um, can we skip it until later and go to Bobby's house first?” I ask them. I need to talk to Bobby about what happened. Well, not in detail, that would just be awkward, but the book and the door and the sock... I can tell him that. 

I sigh as I watch their eyes widen and look from me to each other and back like I just asked to kill the Pope.

JD slides off his stool and walks out of the room and Sammy leans forward his arms crossed on the counter as he tilts his head and looks at me, his little slightly slanted hazel eyes narrowed, “Dad...are you...feeling alright?” he asks me, like he's going to try some touchy-feely therapy shit on me. (Good God, when did the kid become Sam!?)

So, now I'm glaring at him as I turn to look at him head on, “Yes, I am fine, Sam,” (shit! Did I just say ‘Sam’?) I don't correct it, because I know if I do, he'll pick up on that and run with it. (The little bitch) My eyes narrow at him, “Don't you have something you can be doing while I finish with your food?” I ask him and he shrugs at me and grins mischievously, all dimples and says, “I would have if you'd buy me that computer I want.” (Did I mention lately that my kids are brats?)

I sigh at him and he grins wide and slides from the stool squealing, actually fucking squealing as he runs from the room. (Damn girl) I shake my head at him grinning as I turn my attention back to the eggs and the toast that I should have already made, because everything else is getting cold, but my kids come first and we were chatting, so fuck it.

So, I finish breakfast and we eat, (yeah okay, JD and I inhale our food and Sammy picks at his like I've given him poison) then I wash all the dishes (didn't think I did that did you? HA! Who do you think does it? JD? PA-LEASE!) and tell them to get ready to go to Bobby's. 

Once again, JD is out in no time and we're waiting on Mr. Fancy pants, but this time, thankfully, he comes out with his hair in it's normal style and just a tee on. One that says something about all the things your teacher never told you with a list of facts that are just damn odd. So, I ask them if they are ready, before heading out the door and once again I hear, 'dumb ass' and a reply of, 'idiot' for no apparent reason and it makes me smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to ‘ ** _I Want You To Live_** ’.   
> AU Fic. Sam and Dean had what seemed like the perfect life, a normal life. Two sons, a house, each other and no more hunting. One fateful night that all got ripped away. Now Dean is trying to live life without Sam and raise two sons and move on, but he can't let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the video by Herebutnotremembered by the same name.

We get to Bobby's and _he_ starts on me with the, “Am I feeling okay” shit and I am this close [holds fingers a hairs width apart] to punching him for it. I am already sick of that question. Yeah, so I didn't go to the cemetery yet, big deal. It's not like I said I wasn't going at all. Damn!

Once the boys are outside and Bobby and I are sitting down at his table having a beer, I look at him, dead serious and I tell him, “I think Sam is haunting me.”

He looks at me for a long moment before starting to smile and I sigh and roll my eyes. “I’m fucking serious!” I tell him, half yelling. 

The beginning of his smile falls away then and he leans forward, and starts telling me that if that's true, I know what I need to do, that Sam isn't suppose to be here. And I frown, looking down at my beer bottle. “What if I don't want to send him away?” I ask him softly.

Well, now it's Bobby's turn to yell at me, and I take it because I know I deserve it, but it still doesn't change anything. I still don't want to send Sam 'into the light' or what the hell ever. I still want to keep him here, with me, even if he's gone with the light of day and it seems like he was never there. I'll know that he was. ([shrugs] sort of.)

Finally, his yelling wears off and he looks at me and asks me how I know it's Sam, that there are other dead folks that could be haunting me.

I look at him and shake my head, “I know.” I tell him, not getting into it. There are some things I won't tell even Bobby.

He tells me, no, to hold on a second, that it's possible that it could just be a random haunting. I sit there listening to him and I'm frowning but not saying anything and finally he stops and looks at me and asks me what the look is for. That's when I reach into my pocket and pull out Sam's sock and hold it up, slowly turning my head to look at him and he gets quiet, then just says, “Oh.”

(Oh? I get an 'oh.'? I tell him that my brother is haunting me and I know it's him, show him my proof and all I get is that one little word!?) [shakes head]

I pull up from my seat at the table without saying anything else and turn toward the door. I'm leaving, he hasn't helped me, everything he says I already know, I was hoping for... I dunno, something more.

He stops me and tells me again to get rid of Sam and I shove him away and tell him that I can't, that it's Sam and he's there and it's wonderful, and that I don't care.  
I pause then, because I know what I said was wrong, and I see the look on his face. “I'm sorry.” I tell him. (For shoving him, for yelling. Not for my feelings. Sorry, but I'm not. I may be being a selfish ass, but, there it is.)

He nods to me and lets me walk out without another word. I stand in the middle of the salvage yard, just stand there... lost as flashes of memory run through my head. Sam in that hospital bed, all the tubes in him, the heart monitor flat lined, of he and I sitting on the couch before the fire, talking and watching some damn girly flick he put on, of Sam smiling and laughing before that in happier times, of us bringing the boys home, of him walking into the bedroom at night looking sexier than anything I've ever seen, of that sheet covering his face before they wheel him away from me, of the present I get in the mail and the one word that I long to hear, _'jerk'_ written on the card inside and I totally lose it. 

Tears are running down my face as I look down at the ground, see a metal, oh hell, I don't even know what I'm looking at right now, I just grab it and start beating the shit out of the car closest to me like that's going to help. 

I don't see my boys stop playing, stop and stare at me. I don't realize Bobby has went and rounded them up and told them to go in the house. I don't know anything except the heartache I feel and the loss that has hit me again fresh and new. 

It isn't until I go to swing the tire iron again and it catches, that I look behind me and see that Bobby has caught it and is looking at me, part sympathy, part anger on his face. 

“What!? What!?” I scream at him, as he jerks the iron out of my hands and grabs me, hugging me to him. I want nothing to do with it though and I'm trying to shove him away, but he's talking to me, telling me that, “We all miss Sam, son.” (HA! We all miss Sam! He says it and it just sounds like the biggest load of crap to me, because they might miss him, but I'm half dead without him.)

I finally give up in my efforts to get away from him and just stand there, let him hug me. (Actually, I was crying like a damn fool again, standing there, letting him hug me.) 

It wasn't until JD coughed, fakely, that I realized he and his brother were standing there to the side of us.

Bobby stepped away from me and I turned, wiping my eyes and asked them what they needed. They don't say anything and when I turn, Sammy has tears in his eyes and JD looks like he's about to punch something. “I'm okay.” I tell them and they both nod and look at the ground, so I know they are thinking I'm full of shit... again.

I look over at Bobby then and sigh, “We should go, I guess.” I tell him, but my voice isn't very loud and I know I don't sound too sure about that.

He nods to me and steps back further from me to walk past him to my car and the boys follow me. We get in, none of us saying a word. They just climb in the back and I slide behind the wheel, start the car and we're off.

No, the boys never sit up front with me. That's Sam's spot, and as dumb as that sounds, I think they feel the same way, so they never even ask to sit there.

We're driving and I don't even realize where I'm going until I pull in at the Roadhouse and park the car. The boys are quiet, not asking why were here, not screaming about being at Miss Ellen's, not asking me for change for the juke box, nothing. Just dead silence in the car and I wonder why the hell I didn't turn on the radio, but it's kinda late now as we're parked and I've turned the car off. 

I reach over and open the door, sliding from behind the wheel as I think that maybe a drink would be good. Maybe I need to cut lose and just get shit faced, Ellen can watch the boys tonight, but then as we're all walking in and Sammy takes my hand and I look down at him, I see the worried look on his face that he tries to hide and I know that I can't just pawn them off. Not tonight. They need me, we need to go see Sam. 

We walk in and Ellen stops as she's wiping down the bar and looks up, smiles at me then looks to the boys and smiles even bigger. She hurries around the bar, her arms outstretched and crouches for them to run to her and she hugs them both in a giant bear hug, making me wince at the sight of it. 

I look up in time to see Jo heading toward me and some part of me grumbles and wishes I hadn't came while another wonders if I shouldn't just give in and have a quick fling with her. After all, Sam's dead, right? (And I'm not gay. I do still like girls.)

She smiles up at me, all blond curls and dimples and the dimples remind me of Sam and any thought of hooking up with Jo flies out the window, because if she smiled at me once, I'd feel like I was cheating and wouldn't be able to do it.

“Hi, Jo.” I say to her, before walking past her, like she's half invisible to me, because I make her be. 

Walking over to the bar, I take a seat on one of the stools, forearms resting on the top of the bar as Ellen walks back around with JD and Sammy following after her, chatting away about what ice cream she has stashed in the back for them and all I can think of is Sam saying that the severed heads are usually hidden in the freezer right behind the Haggan Daiz and it makes me smile sadly. 

Jo walks behind the bar and asks me what I'll have as she's looking me in the eye and I know she's hitting on me, expecting me to hit right back, but I just don't have it in me to do it. Not today. So, I tell her, “Just a beer.” and look down at my hands. 

I can feel her standing there looking at me for a few minutes before she moves away to get me the beer. When she comes back with it, Ellen is walking out of the back with my boys, who are carrying huge ass bowls of ice cream with them and looking way too excited about the fact that they are eating ice cream before dinner. (Another rule of Sam's that I still enforce.)

Ellen walks up to me and takes my hands in her and as I turn back from watching my boys go to a table to eat their prize bowls of sugared cream, she looks at me with that Mother look and asks me how I am. I hang my head and nod (lying my ass off) and tell her I'm okay. 

She's not a stupid woman, Ellen, so she yanks my hands slightly to get me to look back up at her and says, “Horse shit! Now, how are you really?”

I sigh, press my lips together and glance at Jo, who thankfully seems busy, so I speak softly to Ellen hoping Jo won't hear me, “I think Sam is haunting me.”

She lets go of my hands and picks up the bar rag again and starts wiping the bar and shakes her head. “No, Dean, Sam wouldn't do that. He can't be haunting you.” She looks at me then, “He knows where he needs to go, and he knows he can't stay here, so no, you're wrong.” she tells me and she sounds so sure, I almost believe it. 

I look back down at my hands again, and I can feel my lip trembling as I do, so I press them together and pull my head back, looking up, blinking, trying to make the tears go away that are starting to form in my eyes, before I close them for a moment and ask her softly, “What if I told you I have proof?”

As I lower my head, opening my eyes, I see that that got Jo's attention, because now she's turned toward me, her head tilted to the side and stepping closer. (Shit!)

Ellen gives my that look that says she's interested, but she's probably not going to buy whatever I'm sellin' look as she asks me, “What proof?”

I glance over at Jo, wishing she'd go find something else to do besides stand there and listen in, but she doesn't, so frowning I reach into my pocket and pull out Sam's sock, but I've got it wadded up in my fist and I motion for Ellen to give me her hand, and I put the sock in it then motion for her to turn around before she looks down at it and thankfully Ellen's a smart cookie and figures it out. 

So she glances at Jo and turns, her hand hiding the sock as she does. She turns back around, and it's bunched in her hand again as she gives it back to me. She shakes her head as she looks at me like she needs to shoot me and put me out of my misery and maybe she does. “That's not proof, darlin', that's laundry.” she tells me. 

* * * * * 

I'm driving us to the cemetery. After what Ellen said, I couldn't even finish most of my beer. I waited for the boys to eat their ice cream, then told them we were going. 

I'm not mad at Ellen, in fact, I'm scared to death she's right. After all, maybe I just got up in the night and got his shirt and at some point or another one of his socks got kicked under the bed and it was just today that I noticed it. I mean, it isn't the strangest thing in the world. And she's right, damn it to hell, but she is, Sam was a good hunter and he knows where he needs to go, knows that he can't stay here with me... even though I want it more than I want my next breath. 

So, I'm driving and I'm trying not to cry, or snap at the boys for being boys and snarking back and forth about stupid shit. I'm trying to just think about something, anything else, but I'm back to the last time I looked at Sam. Laying there on that hospital bed, that bitch covering his perfect face with that sheet and me helpless to do anything. Yeah, I'm about one thought away from crying and I can't do that. Not in front of the boys.

I lean forward and click on the radio and turn it up full blast like I use to, and Metallica blares from the speakers and I don't care that I can't hear anything else and that the words are even distorted it's so loud, all I care about is that it's something else to think about other than Sam.

I'm not sure if the boys got suddenly quiet or if the music is just drowning them out, but I can't hear them anymore in the back seat as I sit and bang on the steering wheel to the beat of the music as I turn into the cemetery lot.

I park the car and shut off the radio and engine and look over my shoulder at them, “We're here all out.” I say just so I can say something, so they don't wonder about me.

We all pile out of the car, and walk to Sam's grave, we don't even need to look to know how to get there, hell, I could find it with my eyes closed.

We get there and we all just stand there for a minute staring at the headstone like it's going to do a fucking trick or something, and then Sammy kneels beside it and starts pulling out weeds and tossing them away from the area, muttering under his breath about his Dad's grave looking nice, so pretty soon we're all on our knees pulling weeds and I think it's just because none of us knows what else to fucking do. 

We get to the last weed and none of us want to pull it, because once it's gone, we have to deal with the fact that Sam is there, under that dirt and that hurts like a sonuvabitch, so we all just stare at that last weed like it's holding the entire foundation of the world together and for us maybe it is.

Finally, Sammy reaches out past me, and grabs the weed in his hand and with an, “I love you, Daddy.” directed at Sam's headstone, rips the fucking thing out of the ground and tosses it away.

I look at him like he just stabbed me and JD calls him a cuss word I won't even repeat for you, but Sammy just looks from me to him and says, “Someone had to do it, so I did it.”

JD shakes his head at his brother, but I pull Sammy into my lap and kiss his head and whisper to him that he did good, that Sam would be proud.

So, the three of us sit there, on the ground in front of Sam's headstone. I'm holding Sammy on my lap and JD is sitting beside me, kinda trying to hold onto me, cause I know he feels like he needs to support me and I'm just staring at Sam's grave. I don't even think I'm blinking, just staring.

Slowly, I reach my hand out, and my index finger traces the engraved letters of his name, Sammy's little finger joins mine after a minute and then JD's and soon we're all tracing: **SAMUEL WINCHESTER** and there are tears slowly running from my eyes now and I can tell JD's crying because he's way too quiet. 

Sammy sighs and turns on my lap and frames my face with his hands all of the sudden and tells me, “I wish I knew my Daddy better so I could cry too.” And I have no idea what to say to him at that point, but I can't breathe, I can't do anything but wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his little shoulder and cry like a damn girl. 

JD pulls Sammy from my arms then, and I'm not letting him go, so JD is arguing with me as I tell him, “No, please, don't take him.”  
He's telling me, “Dad, he doesn't need to be here now. We'll be by the car. You can come get us and we can all say goodbye to Dad S later. Come on, Dad, let go of him.” 

Finally, JD's words sink through my grief and I let Sammy go and he scurries away from me and to JD like I have the plague or something and I can hear JD talking to him softly as they walk away, but I have no idea what he's saying as I sit there looking at Sam's headstone and cry, my hand now slowly running over the surface of the stone and in my head I can see his face, see him smiling at me, telling me that everything is going to be okay, but it isn't because he's not here and never will be again. 

I can see the way he looked when JD would bring him drawings and how proud he would sound of the little things JD would do, I can see him standing in the kitchen making coffee and gathering together JD's things for lunch for his first day of Head Start. (Another brilliant idea of Sam's.)

I can see him laughing at me when I go to change Sammy's diaper and it's not what I expected it to be and I am more than pissed that I am stuck with it. 

Then I see him, laying there as I hold his hand, and he's dying, only I don't realize it and I leave him only to get the call a few hours later that my light, my life is dead and I never even got a chance to tell him goodbye. And no one, no one on this planet knows how bad this hurts.... no one. 

They can't possibly begin to understand, because I think that when Sam died, a piece of me really did die with him. I know people say that all the time, but I feel like there is a hole in me that can never ever be filled again, and that no matter what happens, I am going to go on through this life with this hole never being filled, because I won't have him.

See, this is why Dean Winchester never did relationships. Can't do the pain, loss thing. Not my thing. I like my heart hidden, my emotions comfortably buried, thank you very much. But then, I do love someone, and I feel pretty safe with it, because it's Sam, so I bare all. I lay my heart out on the table and it scares the hell out of me, because one wrong move and he could have destroyed me, but he doesn't. He treats the heart that I gave him with kid-gloves, and it's nice. Hell, it's better than nice, it's amazing. And then he winds up dying on me and it kills away a huge part of me. 

I don't think I will ever be the same again... ever.

I can remember walking (yeah, okay, running) into the hospital after they called me, just thinking that they had to be wrong, that he couldn't be gone, because if he was, how would I survive? And then I go there and he is, he's gone and I don't think I've done anything but just survive each day ever since. 

Sure, I laugh with my boys, but there's something missing in my laughter, it's not true and full like it use to be, because Sam's not there to laugh with me. Sure, I have parties for the boys and I pretend to be excited with them, but it's all an act, because all I really want to do is go to bed and never get up again. At least if I'm sleeping I'm dreaming about him and for those few precious hours it's like he's there and I'm me again, but then the day comes and I just have to survive through another day for my boys sake. 

After a while of sitting there, I wipe my tears and pull to my feet, turn and walk over to the boys. 

JD is looking at me like I've just been a huge ass and Sammy is all wide eyes and half hiding behind his brother and it's then that I wonder what they see when they look at me.

Do they understand how much I hurt? Do they understand how much I loved... no, **love** Sam? 

I look down at them and nod, take a deep breath, “Let's go say goodbye.” I tell them, then turn and head back to Sam's grave and I can hear them following me, the leaves crunching under their feet behind me.

We all stand at Sam's grave and JD steps up first, laying his hand on the headstone he clears his throat because I know he's getting choked up, I can see it in the way he's holding his mouth, all tight lipped like I would do. 

After a few minutes he says very softly, “Later, Dad S. Say ‘hi’ to the hot angels for me.” then turns and walks away. 

I shake my head, at him, but I know that attitude, I know he's hiding his feelings. Been there done that, got the extra cookie for it. 

Then Sammy steps up and he walks over to the head stone and throws his arms around it, laying his head on it and says, “Bye, Daddy. Watch over our Daddy for us, cause he's real sad that you're gone.” and I'm biting my cheek so I don't burst out into sobs, and then I hear him whisper, “I love you Daddy.” before he turns his head and kisses the marble. 

He lets go of the headstone suddenly and runs off to his brother. I turn my head to watch him and he's throwing his arms around JD and JD is looking as uncomfortable as I would be about the whole thing.

I look back at Sam's headstone then, as it's my turn and I step up, then crouch there beside the stone and my voice is choked when I speak, and my throat is closing off, “Hey, Sammy,” I sniffle slightly and run a hand across my cheek wiping away a stray tear, “I sure miss you,” I glance at our boys then look back at the stone, “The boys are... awesome, you'd be proud. I'm, uh, I'm doing okay, I guess. I wish you were still here, man.” 

I lean toward the stone and lay my forehead against it, “I love you, Sammy,” I whisper out, “bitch.” then choke on the sob I'm holding back. I pull to my feet, as I look down at the stone, “I'll see ya next week, Sammy.” I whisper, before I turn and walk away back to our boys and the Impala.

* * * * * 

We get home and I make us dinner, I dunno what it was, I'm kinda numb at this point and now I remember why we always go see Sam in the mornings so that by dinner I'm not a basket case and I can think straight to cook a decent meal for two growing boys. [sighs and frowns] But, we went late and here I am, and we're eating whatever this is... I think it's Hamburger Helper and I made glazed carrots as the vegetable, but I can't be sure, because I can't taste anything, but the colors are right, so I'm pretty sure that's what it is.

Whatever it is, JD is eating the hell out of it and Sammy is eating the carrots like they're candy, so I guess we're good. 

After dinner I clear the table, but I leave the dishes in the sink and I know if Sam was here he'd be yelling at me that that's just gross, but he isn't here now is he?

Will never be here again, so I couldn't really give a shit. If he's so damn worried about the dirty dishes he can come back from the dead and wash the fucking things!

I go to the couch and plop down in front of the TV, Sammy's watching some Discovery Channel thing, so I'm watching it with him and trying to follow along with these nuts talking about finding real live Dinosaurs or some shit. 

After the commercial break I figure out it's a special, 'what if?' kinda thing, so I'm not ready to call the channel yet and ask them if next they're going to show unicorns. Cause sure dinosaurs were real, but, uh, dude, not today they aren't, it's called extinct. Hell, even I know that.

So, I'm sighing every few minutes as I watch this thing thinking about all the problems with their little 'what if' theory, but Sammy's eating this shit up and even JD is silently sitting there, eyes glued to the tube, so I keep my mouth shut.

As I sit there, I hear something at the door, the sound of the knob turning and footsteps on the porch again. I look at the boys and apparently they hear it too as they have managed to tear their eyes off the TV to stare at the door. 

So, it let's me know that at least in this I'm not crazy and some dumb ass is trying to break into my house. I jump up from the couch, whisper to the boys to stay put and not do anything, just keep watching their show as I head for my room. Just inside the door I go to my dresser and open one of the drawers and pull out my pistol and load it as I am walking out, heading toward the door.

I get there, hand on the door knob and I suddenly don't hear anything anymore.  
Frowning, I unlock the door and open it and standing right smack there in front of me, his head bowed until the door opens and then he looks up and grins at me, I could swear is Sam, but as I blink, he isn't there anymore. (Okay, now I am about to lose my fucking mind)

I closed the door, all pissed off, more at myself for doing that to myself than anything else. I lock the door and march back to my room. I hear JD ask me who it was and I mutter a, “No one.” to him as I unload the clip from the gun and return it to my drawer, sliding the drawer closed with way more force then necessary.

So much so that the picture of me, Sam, JD and Sammy I have up there falls to the floor with a loud crash. (Yeah, I had just started taking Sam's pictures out and putting them back up again.)

The show is over and it's bedtime, the boys have school in the morning so they need their sleep. (What? It's 10, I think that's pretty good... hell of a lot better than Sam would have made them do. [huffs] 9 PM, all the good shows come on at 9. And yes, I know what time he would have made them go to bed, we talked about stuff like that. I told him he was an evil father for it too.)

So, I have them all tucked into bed and I go get ready for bed myself, tossing off my jeans and over shirt so that I'm just in my boxers and tee. But then, as I stand there in my room, I think about the day and I feel bad for my kids, for what they must be going through and I walk back to their room and open the door, creep in, as they are already sound asleep and I sit in the chair by the closet and just look at them. 

I wonder sometimes if I am a very good parent anymore at all. I know I'm a wreck most days, but I try, I try damn hard and I give them every friggin' thing they want... just about.

After a few minutes, I pull up and walk back to my room and get into bed. Laying on my stomach, my arms tucked up under the pillow, my head turned to the side, away from where Sam was sitting in my dream. 

_I hear the floor boards creek and groan across the room again, but I refuse to turn over and look. Refuse to buy into that one again._

_He isn't there. It isn't real, I tell myself._

_But then, the mattress dips on the same side again and I feel a hand on my back and I know it's his._

_I slowly turn over and there he is, sitting on the side of my bed. He's got the same shirt on as before, but this time he isn't smiling at me, he's looking at me with that worried look of his. I sigh and hang my head and I whisper, "You aren't real Sammy."_

_I slowly look up at him and he leans in and kisses my lips softly, before drawing away and moving to lay next to me, wraps am arm around me. I turn to face him and we're just laying there looking at each other, not saying anything, but I've moved my arm and I'm holding him to me, just as he's holding me._

_I lean in and press my face to his neck and breath in the smell of him._ **God, he smells so good.** _I pull my head back after a few minutes and I look at him and shake my head against the pillow. "I can't go on without you." I tell him, but he nods to me and I hear him whisper, "Have to."_

_I sigh and feel like telling him, that I don't want to, but I don't, I just hold him to me, enjoying the fact that even if it is a dream, he's here right now and I can smell him and feel him. I hear the word, 'Daddy' said and I smile slightly at him and tell him that it's Sammy calling for us. He nods to me and starts to pull his arm away, but I grab him and shake my head, because I don't want him to go, but then, he starts to fade away._

“DADDY!!!”

I sit straight up in the bed, my breathing is hard and my eyes are wide as I hear the panic in Sammy's voice. 

I hurry and pull from the bed, telling Sam to come on, but then I don't hear any movement from the bed and I look back and it's just that damn shirt laying there. “Motherfucker!” I spat out softly as I turn and yank open my door, hurrying down the hall to my sons room and throw open the door.

As I look inside from the door way, I see JD holding little Sammy and Sammy's crying. JD looks up at me, like I did it, glaring and angry. “Go back to bed!” he tells me, “It's where you'd rather be. I've got Sammy.”

My eyes narrow on him and I step further into the room, “What did you just say to me?” I ask him, my head turned slightly, like I didn't hear him well.

He just glares at me, then looks down at Sammy, and pulls back from him, makes Sammy look at him. “Sammy, I got you, I got you, Sammy. As long as I'm around nothin' is ever gonna happen to you, nothin's gonna hurt you. I'll take care of you, always. I promise.” 

I hear him tell Sammy and I gasp softly, my eyes widening, and after that I can barely breathe. JD looks back up and he's glaring daggers at me, “You did this!” he yells at me, “You and your grief! He dreamt you killed yourself to be with Sam!”

Okay, now I'm pissed. Not only is he blaming me for a goddamn nightmare, but he is calling Sam, Sam and not Dad, like he thinks he's King Shit all of the sudden. 

“Dammit it, JD, watch your mouth!” I yell at him, pointing at him.  
He just glares at me, then looks back at Sammy and he's hugging him to him like he's some mighty protector and I'm the Goddamn boogeyman. 

I turn on my heel and storm out the door, slamming it behind me, then lean back on it, looking up at the ceiling. I stand there, hearing JD's words to Sammy over and over again in my head and I close my eyes and whisper, “Please let him do a better job then I did.” before pulling from the door and going back to my room, slamming that door closed too. 

I don't sleep worth a shit the rest of the night and Sam, well, there's no sign of him now, so I'm left to sit in my room and brood over what my son has said to me.

I pull from the bed about 7 AM, mostly because I was hoping to fall back to sleep at some point so I waited as long as I could, but I finally got up then as I hear the boys up and moving around down stairs. Spilling stuff is more like it, and JD's cussing up a storm like I'm too deaf to hear it.

I go to the bathroom do the usual morning things, then head for the coffee pot that is screaming my name. 

I walk into the kitchen and JD is sweeping up something off the floor, and Sammy has a bowl of cereal, and some toast and a glass of juice already. Now, I know he might have gotten the juice and the cereal, but not the toast, because it isn't black, so I figure JD was the chef.

JD glances up at me, and mutters something under his breath before looking back at what he's doing totally dismissing me. (Okay, fine, be an ass.)

I look at Sammy and offer him a small smile and ask him, “You alright, dude?” but as he opens his mouth to answer I see JD look at him and him look at JD and Sammy closes his mouth and just continues eating. (Okay, so they are in cahoots. I get it. And yes, I know what that means!)

“Sammy, go eat in front of the TV.” JD tells him and I look up, watch Sammy go, then look at JD, because he knows that isn't allowed unless I okay it.

He puts the broom away as I pour my coffee and he walks over to the table and tells me, “Sit!” pointing to a chair.

I raise my eyebrow at him, “No, I think I'll stand, thanks.” I tell him, my words clipped and not sounding very friendly.

He shakes his head at me and says again, “Sit!” still pointing. (Damn stubborn persistent little...) 

So, yeah, I'm moving to sit down, and I look at him, waiting for what he has to say. He starts pacing, arms crossed over his chest, then he stops and looks at me, “Why don't you get a girlfriend?” he asks me and my mouth opens, but nothing comes out. “You aren't gay, Dad! Get a girlfriend for crying out loud! And hell, if you are, get a boy friend for Christ's sake!”

I glare at him, pulling up from my sitting position and yell at him, “I sure as hell hope you're going somewhere with this!”

He nods to me, “I am.” he says, “It's time to let Sam go, Dad. He'd dead and you can't bring him back. We need you, here, now with us, not living for your dead brother. I think Dad S would want you to move on, and you need to. For yourself as well as Sammy and me.” (Since when did my kid become Dr. Phil?)

I go from glaring at him, to sighing, to shaking my head, to raising an eyebrow at him, to finally saying, “I have let him go, JD. He's gone. I know that and it's what hurts me.”

JD shakes his head, “You haven't, Dad. Sure bodily, he's gone, but you still have clothes, letters, books…” he says to me, letting his sentence trail off with a sigh.

“Hey!” I tell him, “Those books are my books too!” and the little smart ass raises an eyebrow at me, waiting... and I know he's waiting for me to give him excuses for the other stuff, but sadly I don't have any excuses, except that yeah, I was holding on.

Tears fill my eyes as I sit back down in my chair and he walks over to me, wraps his arms around my shoulders for a minute, before putting his hands on my shoulders so I look at him. “Wouldn't Sam want you to move on?” he asks me, and I can't answer him, because I know he's right.

* * * * * 

Two days later, I've packed up all of Sam's things all his clothes, the letters, everything, but the books and pictures, (My son has allowed me to keep those. Little asshole) and I'm loading the box into the Impala. (Yes, I even packed up my favorite shirt of Sam's) 

We all three get in and drive until we find a spot we all like and there we set up a bonfire and slowly, tears running down my cheeks, I toss Sam's things into the fire, piece by piece.

I glance up at JD who's standing there with his brother watching me, and I could swear I see Sam standing behind them, one hand on each of their shoulders and he's watching me too. He's giving me that sad, understanding face, the one that says, 'it's for the best, Dean' and I sigh and look back down at the fire. (Oh hell, all three of them are against me.)


End file.
